


Stranger Danger

by Still_beating_heart



Series: Yes Really, A Chipmunk [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Chipmunk Stiles Stilinski, Fluff, Humor, I said it again, M/M, Mistaken Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:54:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26313736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Still_beating_heart/pseuds/Still_beating_heart
Summary: Stiles covers his mouth with his palm, biting down on the webbing between his thumb and index to stifle the laugh.  Derek Hale is going to climb a tree.  In the buff.  To rescue his distraught boyfriend stuck in chipmunk form.This is priceless.  Stiles reaches for his phone in his back pocket only to be reminded he’s wearing nothing but underwear.  It’s too risky to sneak back in for the device, he’ll just have to remember this in extreme clarity for the rest of his life as Derek starts his trek up the tree trunk.  Naked.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Yes Really, A Chipmunk [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1911907
Comments: 28
Kudos: 146





	Stranger Danger

Stranger Danger

Derek wakes early, too early in the morning. To the sound of a chipmunk chattering, panicked, outside the window. His hand darts over to the other side of the bed, lands on empty mattress, “shit,” he leaps out of bed, hustles down the stairs and out the door, “Stiles! What’s going on?” 

He scans the yard, adrenaline starting to glaze the world in sparks and fog, if Stiles is panicked enough that even Derek can’t understand him, then he must be in serious danger, “Stiles!”

He sniffs the breeze, finds the scent of lemons and follows the anxiety over to a tree where Stiles is sitting, down by the creek, his hands at his chest and his mouth letting loose a stream of nonstop high pitched clicks, “Stiles, you’re okay. Take a deep breath and come down here,” he urges with his palm up in the air, reaching as far as he can, “just jump, I’ll get you inside, but I can’t understand you, you need to breathe,” Derek takes a deep breath himself, puling himself to center, closing his eyes and trying to focus on the words underneath the clucking. He comes up empty and urges again, “just breathe, Stiles, I’m right here. You’re safe.”

***********

Stiles stumbles out to leave a tinkle long before he intended on waking up, yawns and tries to hit the toilet with his stream but it’s so hard to do when his eyes won’t open and his sleep fog won’t recede. When he shakes it off, he can hear a chipmunk chattering outside, “damn crows,” he mumbles, yawns again and stumbles back to the bedroom. 

Face-plants on his side of the bed, flops an arm out to cover Derek’s back with, but it falls onto an empty mattress, “damn it, what now?” he asks the pillow that’s still warm with broody-heat. (Get it? Like body heat, only broody.) Give him a break, he’s still half asleep.

Stiles robotically sits up, scrubbing at his face when his elbows meet his knees. He doesn’t hear anyone else in the house. So there must not have been a pack emergency or anything. He should just go back to bed. Derek probably went for a run. 

Blearily, the clock tells him that no, in fact Derek did not go for a run. Because he was sleeping soundly when Stiles got up to pee, and it would be at least an hour from now before he’d be out running.

“Damn it,” he grumbles into his palms, scrubs across his face and drags his boxers on before he walks down the stairs, “no wolf in the kitchen. Or the living room. Or the,” his eyes skim across the big window at the front. The one that overlooks the yard full of berry bushes, pollinator habitats, and creek, “you’re a complicated fellow Mr Hale,” he tells the view of his boyfriend’s naked ass out in the yard, his hand extended palm-up towards a tree branch, “what the Hale?” craning his neck to see he’s reaching for a chipmunk, and he’s talking. 

Stiles sneaks as quietly as humanly possible to the door to push it open a crack, hoping that the terrified chipmunk noises keep cover for the door creaking open to Derek’s wolf ears.

“It’s okay Stiles,” he hears Derek telling the chipmunk.

Oh. Hale. That is, he opens his mouth to correct Derek, and then changes his mind. This could be solid entertainment. Seriously solid entertainment. 

“It’s okay. You just need to take a deep breath, and I’ll just,” his extended hand falls, lands on his head, and scrubs through his hair, “I’ll just climb up there then,” he tells the perturbed rodent as he makes his way over to the base of the tree.

Stiles covers his mouth with his palm, biting down on the webbing between his thumb and index to stifle the laugh. Derek Hale is going to climb a tree. In the buff. To rescue his distraught boyfriend stuck in chipmunk form. 

This is priceless. Stiles reaches for his phone in his back pocket only to be reminded he’s wearing nothing but underwear. It’s too risky to sneak back in for the device, he’ll just have to remember this in extreme clarity for the rest of his life as Derek starts his trek up the tree trunk. Naked. 

If Stiles was a nicer man, he would interrupt him now. Now. Before he can slip on the bark and scrape his junk on that rough surface. But it’s Derek. Derek with his wolf grace and his insane upper (full) body strength, so yeah right on the whole slipping thing. 

He’s up the damn tree like a damn monkey and he’s creeping across the branch on his tip toes towards the chipmunk and Stiles is pretty certain the poor little critter is going to have a heart attack. All the while Derek is shushing it and offering words of comfort and praise. 

And Stiles. Stiles is still a terrible person because he’s just letting this all happen. Just all of it. 

When Derek finally, and very carefully, reaches the chipmunk, runs his hand over the little fella, he plays dead! The chipmunk plays dead! Derek catches him before he can hit the ground, snorts something that sounds a lot like, “drama queen,” and Stiles nearly scoffs but then remembers he’s in stealth mode. So he doesn’t.

He slips back out of the way when Derek starts up the grass towards the house. The chipmunk in the palm of his hand, he’s cooing at him very calmly, “it’s okay Stiles. It’s just me, we’ll get to the bottom of this, and we’ll get you back to you soon enough, okay? Just stay with me,” and his voice cracks a little and Stiles feels like an asshole, because Derek is probably freaking out right now. Thinking Stiles is stuck in shift and so far gone he can’t even recognize Derek as his anchor. Well, okay, he needs to step out and let Derek know he’s here. And that little rodent that Derek is cooing at is a stranger.

“Stranger danger,” he steps out just as Derek is about to walk past him.

Derek startles, but only a little (because he is a graceful predator who is always aware of his surroundings), his face does so many complicated emotions all at one time before settling on anger and, “what the Hell?” as his eyes dart from the chippy to Stiles and back.

Stiles puts his hands up between them in surrender, “okay, okay I should have said something as soon as I came down here, and for that, I apologize. But I totally don’t apologize for witnessing that! That, Derek was…”

Derek’s eyebrows dip into dangerous territory and his mouth clamps shut.

“No, wait. I know. You’re upset. You thought I was in trouble. You thought I was…”

“Feral,” he interrupts, his brows dipping to concern and his cheeks flushing in embarrassment before his gaze darts away, landing on the floor.

“Woa, okay, just, can I touch you or will you bite?”

“I might bite.”

“Okay. Seriously dude, I’m sorry. I should have said something right away, but I kinda, I mean, you looked so cute coming to my rescue and putting your own manhood in jeopardy to climb a tree buck naked to save my life.”

Derek has his mad face on, staring at the floor like he’s willing it to swallow him whole in his embarrassment.

“I swear I will never tell a soul,” he chances it, puts his hand down on Big Guy’s shoulder and doesn’t get it bitten off, so that’s a start, “I love you,” he reminds him, “now give me the chipmunk before she dies of a heart attack.”

“I think she has a broken paw.”

“Oh. Okay, well hand her over and we’ll take a look,” he might be using his calm-the-wolf voice, and it seems to be working, his hand rises, lands over Stiles’s open palm and slowly slides the chipmunk his way.

——————

The chipmunk is officially handed off to the capable hands of Deaton by the time Derek braves looking at Stiles again. On the ride home. From the passenger side. With his arms crossed over his chest.

“I’m not going to tease you,” he reassures him, reaching over the gear shift to press his fingers into his thigh, “I only have one question.”

Derek groans, rolls his eyes, focuses on the scenery blurring by out the window, “one.”

“How did you not scent enough know it wasn’t me? Shouldn’t I have still stunk enough inside the house for you to realize I was indoors?”

“Stiles, your scent is everywhere now.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s not,” his hand lands on top of Stiles’s and he squeezes it, “it’s a good thing. A really good thing. I just, I guess your scent is all over in the house and in the yard, so I can just always smell it and that chipmunk was giving off anxiety, so it just kind of…”

“Makes sense that my scent would be overrun by anxiety if I was in trouble. Okay, I get it. And I will never bring it up again. Deal?”

“Deal,” Derek grumbles towards the dash. 

——————

Deal, what deal? 

“Derek, my wolf in shining armor, I’m stuck in shift, and I need my anchor. Or I’ll go feral,” Stiles hops off the railing, skitters around on the porch and tosses himself off the edge to land on the hood of the Camaro when Derek shifts into park. 

Derek lowers his brows, so low they’ll never see the light of day again, and then he jams the car in reverse and stomps the gas. 

“Asshole!” Stiles flings himself off the hood before he can become road kill. Or driveway kill. Or just chipmunk lying on ground with the wind knocked out of him.

——————

He tries it again the next morning. Sneaks out of bed before Derek wakes, finds a nice branch that overlooks the window of the bedroom and starts squeaking cries for help. Watching Derek’s head lift from the pillow, his eyes squinting around the room, at Stiles’s empty side, and then dragging the pillow out from under him to cover his ears with! 

“Asshole!”

“Your Chipmunk language needs some work,” he grumbles, and settles right back into the mattress and off to sleep.

———————

Not to turn this into The Boy Who Cried Wolf. But well, Stiles is always crying wolf, so really, “Derek?” he cranes his head around the doorframe, scanning the kitchen, trying to focus in on that heartbeat. It’s nowhere, “Derek?” he scampers out to the sliding door, leaping up and down to see if he can see his tail disappearing into the woods or maybe his face reappearing from the woods, or something, anything! 

“Ddddddeeeerrrrrreeeeeek!” falling to his knees and pounding his little fists on the glass.

It’s not like he can open the door. Maybe they should install a cat door somewhere. 

Stiles waits for like seven years. Or seven hours maybe. Fine, it’s like seven minutes before Derek reappears in the yard. Stopping by the creek for a slurp before he turns back into human hunk of man Derek. Trudging up the steps slowly, like he has no idea Stiles is stuck in shift right now. And seriously, maybe he needs to figure this out a little better. He is capable of shifting back and forth when Derek’s not around, that’s not the problem. It’s not usually the problem. He can usually just think of all the things that make him human Stiles and shift back. The things like Derek, and his dad, and Scotty, and the pack. 

But this morning when he woke up out of a weird nightmare and instantly shifted, out of fear or some primal instinct or something stupid, and Derek wasn’t there, and the edges of the nightmare were leaking into reality, he just kind of got stuck that way. Or maybe not, maybe he just wanted to hide in the chipmunk form for a bit before he saw Derek with his own two eyes to remind him, that he is, in fact, still the most reliable anchor that Stiles has. 

He hurries up to the back of the couch, and when Derek opens the door, he launches himself, lands on his shoulder, gripping his ear to keep himself there on that sweat slicked skin, “where were you?”

“Running,” he shrugs, and that doesn’t help the whole hanging on thing. But he slips his hand up to let Stiles rest in his palm, “what are you doing?”

“Had a weird dream. Couldn’t find you. Freaked out a little. Just a little though.”

“Just a little, huh?”

“Yeah. A tiny, tiny, furry bit.”

Derek’s lips lift into an amused smile, “why aren’t you turning back then?”

“Maybe,” scuffing his toe across Derek’s callouses, “I don’t want to,” folding his hands behind his back.

“Okay,” sighing, not believing the charade for even a moment, “well, I’m going to shower. If you shift back, you can join me.”

Stiles’s mouth drops open, eyes tug up to meet Derek’s, “that is unfair wolfman! How dare you stoop to bribery!”

He quirks a brow at Stiles, sets him on the couch back, and saunters off. Swaying his hips, making sure that Stiles gets a good eyeful of his ass all the up the stairs. 

He’s compulsively licking his lips as he hops off the couch and chases after him, “but I need you to shift back! I need your heart Derek. Your beautiful, overflowing heart that you try so hard to pretend you don’t have! I need, oh,” he trips over the top step with his fully human feet, sprawling towards the ground. Caught midair by a grinning Derek. He rights him, pats his arm and then takes off again.

“My Hale,” Stiles slides to his hands and knees on the floor and not at all dramatically follows him, “you know how much I love your smile, right? But I mean, damn Derek, watching you walk away is like a religious experience. Even though I never actually want to watch you walk away, not for good, but just a lap or two around the house every so often so I can just…”

The door gets slammed in his face.

“Excuse me!”

“Shut up and you can come in.”

“Oh. Oh Derek, that’s not even close to fair. You know, me and Shut Up have never been friends. Just let me in.”

“Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin.”

“Funny, really funny,” raising his voice over the sound of the shower being turned on, “what if I huff and puff and um, blow you? Blow your dick down? Blow your…”

“Shut up,” the door swings open again, and his mouth covers Stiles’s immediately. 

Instantly shutting him up, aside from the muttered curses and repeated versions of Derek’s name on his tongue that just pour out between kisses and sometimes in the middle of kisses and really, even when he’s occupied, he still can’t shut up.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos are awesome!


End file.
